My Reading Experience

Decent Essays

Laying on my comfortable bed under my warm covers with a chapter book in front of my face, I turned to the last page.
“It was a suc-cess-ful successful day,” read the final line in the book.
My heart began to race as my eyes grew wide like an owl’s. Had I really just read a whole chapter book by myself? I sprung out of my bed and ran to go tell my mom.
“Mommy, I just finished reading a chapter book all by myself!” I exclaimed with a wide smile plastered on my face.
“I’m so proud of you!” my mother responded. “I knew that you could do it!” My mom gave me a huge hug. At that moment, I realized that all of the long hours of practicing and reading had paid off. I could finally read a chapter book.
Since I was young, my parents made reading a priority for me. When I was in kindergarten at my preschool, I had a reading teacher who worked one on one with me to increase my level. As a result, I was confident in my reading ability and excited for the first day of first grade at my new red-bricked elementary school. As I briskly walked through the main entrance and to my classroom the morning of the first day, I squeezed my parents’ hands tightly with butterflies in my stomach. I had only been inside the school one other time, at Meet the Teacher night, so I was still unsure of what to expect. We found my classroom and put my pink polka dot backpack and matching lunchbox on the hook below my cubby right inside the door. After finding my desk and sitting in my chair, my parents gave me

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